Adios 2008

I don't believe in New Years Resolutions. I've made them in the past, usually some fickle thing that I followed for a week and then waved it away because both human nature and life are not alterable in the course of a day. Life is not black and white, it consists of gray area. New Years Resolutions are black and white.
A few months ago I learned that all my effort to live in a black and white world (it either is or it isn't) was a terrible idea. Life is no fun that way. I'd rather be struggling in a gray area, filled with thought and creativity and messiness than ignorantly successful in a black or white area.
Because of this, I make goals for upcoming years. This is different because I am not going to just focus on one idea to alter something about myself. Instead, I am taking aspects of my life and strengthening them.
My hope is that 2009 is filled with new, creative and adventurous experiences. I want to look back on 2009 next December and go "Wow, I never thought I'd ever get to say that that would happen."
I don't feel particularly daring in saying this, because when I look back on 2008, I can say the same thing.

Now For:

The Best Discovered or Re-Discovered songs from 2008 (however the selection spans through time)

- Claire De Lune: Debussy
- I Woke Up In A Car: Soemthing Corporate
- Rehab: Rihanna
- Alive With The Glory of Love: Say Anything
- Reverie: The Morning Of
- Mariella: Kate Nash
- Shut Up: Dirtie Blonde
- Fairytale: Sara Barielles
- White Horse: Taylor Swift
- Our Love: Rhett Miller
- Collide: Granian
- Going Going Gone: Paloalto
- Torn: Natalie Imbruglia
- Storms Over The Ocean: Ollabelle
- What Sarah Said: Deathcab For Cutie
- Bowl of Oranges: Bright Eyes
- Something: The Beatles
- Fidelity: Regina Spektor
- Landed: Ben Folds
- Almost Lover: A Fine Frenzy
- Flannigan's Ball: Dropkick Murphys
- The Resolution: Jack's Mannequin
- Hazel's House: Richard Shindell
- Unmistakeably Love: Stephanie's Id
- Existentialism on Prom Night: Straylight Run

Dream

Since I've come home my sleeping schedule has been a bit off- I go to bed well past three in the morning and I wake up between noon and two. This is not preferable for me, but I've given myself until the new year to follow this schedule before I make any sort of change.
Because of this schedule, I think I've been harboring strange dreams. Mostly they've been harmless, mostly just things I wanted to see happen in life that play out when I'm unconscious. Friends make up and act civil, things clean themselves, family drama melts away, trivial things like that. But last night I had a nightmare that was more sinister than I've had in awhile. I'm leaving most of the elements that were "sinister" out of my re-telling of the dream. These are things that others don't need to experience, even in conjuction with my own re-telling.
I dreamt I was in a third-world country, it seemed like it was Africa... maybe Ethiopia or Northern Kenya. The dream began with me in a charter plane flying over a mostly desert region where deep ravines were being dug in an attempt to create a clean well for water reserves. The plane landed and I walked to the edge of these ravines, which were deep and clear with the exception of discoloration around the edges. There were people in clusters everywhere, using tools to carve the edges of the ravines. I began to help, and the tools did not feel strange in my hand and I squinted in the sunlight as I worked with strangers through the day.
At some point a woman with a baby, who must have been around my age but taller, darker, and much skinnier than myself came up to me and began to ask for a doctor. In this moment I suddenly became aware of an outcrop of buildings in the distance, very near to where the plane I had arrived in had landed. I led the girl over to the building, and fought with six very unwilling doctors to get her an appointment, even though the building was strangely deserted. Finally I marched her to the back rooms and found a doctor who was sitting beside a tiny hospital crib and a examination table. I brought the woman into the room and she sat on the table, holding her child. The doctor looked at us harshly and picked something up from the hospital crib, a very sick baby who, in the moment that I laid eyes on him, died. The doctor- a woman with sandy red hair and a rash complexion looked at me and said in a European accent of some kind, "Her mother left her here." I stood there in silence, not knowing what to say. The doctor placed the recently passed infant back in the crib and turned her attention to the woman I had brought in. I continued to stand there in this ramshackle doctors office, with holes in the walls so big that I could see the sun setting and dirt on the floor so thick that there barely seemed to be a floor at all. I even saw the dust motes in the air, caught in the sunlight as the doctor questioned this woman, whose illness and the illness of her child could not be figured out.
"Has anyone you know travelled recently?" The doctor pressed- a very strange question, when applied to reality, but I suppose it was just my mind connecting to what I know- and the woman struggled with the question. Suddenly, I turned to the girl and spoke to her in her native tongue, and re-asked the question.
"My father. Hell's Kitchen." She stuttered, but not in a frightened way. If anything, she spoke with stubborn defiance. She knew the doctor had little interest in diagnosis, and she knew I couldn't help her.
We walked away then. We left the building and the tiny village it was in. We walked together with her child along the edges of the ravines, which were filling with water.
"Look." I told her. "We can drink from these, can't we?" I was hopelessly naieve, and the woman sighed.
"That water is poisoned. See the pollution at the edges? We cannot drink this, we'll die." She told me, switching her child from one shoulder to the other before gesturing to the pieces of color I had seen earlier in the daylight. I could barely see them now, but she was aware of them just the same as if the sunlight had been strong and glaring. When I looked closely I saw the pollution, and we moved on to another ravine. When the sun set, we were standing together, overlooking rancid water with a silent baby between us. The people along the landscape were silent, and the woman turned to me. She began to speak about New York, the streets and the buildings and the traffic lights. She had been there once, she declared, when she was a child. She had been to a place that I called home but had returned to the place that she called hers. In that moment I felt like the United States was a undesireably reality, as if I had no need to be there any longer, because I had found a new home.
The dream ended with the woman and I and the infant seated at the end of a polluted puddle of water, in the darkness, waiting for the sunrise.

Warning: Bad Mood Killer

I've been having such a hard time lately, with the people in my life. I know I speak occasionally about how wonderful everyone in my life is, how blessed I am to have them and all of the good and kindness they all have. I just wish that this would be enough for them to see in each other, or in me.
I understand I am less than perfect, and sometimes a downright terrible person. I've been lucky that I am surrounded by people who see the good in me, or at the very least my intentions.
This may be confusing. Let me explain, the people in my life are all struggling, or I'm struggling with them. My family is incredibly stressed and I am afraid every day for what that could bring. I live in a ticking time bomb, and sometimes I feel like the only one with the ability to hold it all together, to bring some semblence of normalcy, is me. Unfortunately, I need a break sometimes, because I'm getting anxiety attacks in my own home. So I'll "go out" for hours- I'll leave at 6 and come back at three in the morning, or I'll suddenly just go "I'm going out with so-and-so" and I won't worry about when I'm coming home.
The sick part of this is, particularly with my parents, I'm being vague about who I'm with. Generally its a friend, but many times Alex is there too, and usually at my insistance. Because I know it makes me insane, but even with how much it hurts me to be with him, it hurts more to be without him. And right now I'd rather be hurting while he's right next to me than hurting while we're not speaking and he's four hours away. Because the decision not to be in contact with him keeps me up at night, and I'm tired of either crying myself to sleep, or pretending that I'm fine. So I've been seeing him a lot lately. I hold it together rather well, I believe. I act with near indifference when we're together, and when he offered me a ride home last night I refused, because I am afraid that I am hurting him, too. I know how he feels, and he knows how I feel. Unfortunately I don't know if he's been hanging around for the right reasons. I'm afraid that he feels guilty. But I won't get into that.
I guess I just miss consistency, in my life. Friends who I love and used to be closer to each other than to me aren't speaking anymore. They're both huge part of my life, and sometimes it feels like I'm being ripped in half, particularly when I have to chose between the two of them. My family is barely holding itself together, and instead of going to each other for support everyone is going seperate directions. And everything with Alex just threatens to overtake it all. My vision is so clouded when it comes to this that I feel like I can't make sense out of anything at all, and I'm bound to just be a completely emotional wreck for the rest of eternity.

I just wanted to get that all out. Later on tonight I'm going to write up another post, a happier one, focusing on the good things that have happened in the last few days.

Guilty

My Mother: "So did you have fun with Wyoming last night?"

Me: "Yeah, I had a good time."

My Mother: "Good. It was nice to hear you laugh again."


I promise, from here on out, even if I'm absolutely fucking miserable, there will be a smile on my face.

Twisting the Ends

My bags are all packed and piled neatly by the door. I'm bringing home more than most other people, because I brought too much with me in the first place and now I'm trying to cart the bulk of it back. This is the first time I'm being picked up from college for a few months, because I generally take the train home. That being said, a good bunch of my stuff has been waiting to make it back to my hometown for a few months.
All of my craft supplies- my pastels, beads, knitting, writing books, and sketchbooks are waiting in an old trunk that I was given by my mom's boss, who owns a floral shop and has collected a slew of props over the years. They're joined by a few well-worn pairs of shoes and my favorite books, along with most of my cd's and some fancy paperclips and a sewing kit. Two duffle bags stacked on top of the trunk hold everything else- clothes and makeup and nailpolish, as well as a few sweatshirts. I don't wear most of these things, so they're going back home. There are a handful of bags with essentials as well, but these are the bags that I've needed easy access to, because I've been living out of bags since last Thursday.
I've never had a month off in the middle of winter before. Usually I'm off in the summertime, when the days are longer and walks are pleasant and I can go barefoot through the streets just because I like the warmth of the pavement under my calloused heels. There are two major plans for this month off, and three goals. The first plan is to clean my room back home, to rid it of everything I've tactlessly kept over the last eighteen years. The second is to take a lot of time to do creatively-charged things. I want to continue to make earrings and jewelry and get better and ore creative with the craft. Knitting and painting and pastel pieces are also high on the list of things I want to do, and I foresee a handful of afternoons being spent in a craft store or two.
My goals are similar but slightly different. My main goal is to get my etsy shop, where I will be selling jewelry, up and running. Another goal is to kick meat for at least a little while. I do this for about two months every few years, but I haven't gotten it to stick yet. My last goal is to just remember to take some time every day to be reflective. I do this often enough during times when my life is not as stressful, but I feel as if my life would be a tad more stress-free if I did this in times of chaos as well.
Also, I'm trying to take more photos in general, because I feel as if I don't take enough photos of just silly things. So for the next few weeks, I'm going to be married to my camera.


Love and Peace,
Sarah Elizabeth

I lied

It’s the wind in the box,
Whispers unheard about what we won’t talk about,
To keep our damage minimal,
Contained in four walls and a close-etched lid,
Our names scratched into all sides and burned at the bottom.
I can only tell you why the box is closed,
You may never know why the box is opened.
My secret is in the rough, unfinished edges,
The dark spots that are my favorite and the cuts where emotion ran too deep and never healed.
Fleshy undersides and innards are revealed,
The parts no one was supposed to see.
But when you watch the box,
When your hands hesitantly grasp the sides and I tell you not to open it,
Whispering the lore of Pandora and Idis under my breath as I watch you peek inside,
You gape wide-eyed in hurt and confusion and respect.
I knew it was useless from the beginning
I knew you would warily look inside, overturning the stones to shine light on the gray and the wet and the cold which we pretended not to be there.
You see the bottom of the box,
The roots where the tree had grown and where things were sanded and left to weather,
I see only the entire entity,
My hands on yours as we both will it to close,
And the dark inside too deep for either of us to firmly grasp on our own.

In Light

Hey Everyone!
I know I haven't been updating as frequently. Usually I post a little something at least every other day or so. But over the weekend a lot of emotional things have begun to happen between Alex and myself. Out of respect for him and the situation I'm trying not to blog as much, because I often write about what is on my mind and the current situation is pretty much all I can think about. So, because this is a public forum and because generally I don't hold much back, I'm going to take a leave of absence until things become either subdued or blown over and I will write less with the crazy, emotional side of my heart.

Much love to everyone,
Sarah Elizabeth

Ramblings Before Math

When I went home last weekend, my relationship with my ex (who from here on out, I'm just going to call Alex) came up. I hadn't expected it to, after all- it happened in September, mostly everyone knew, and I've been working so hard to move past it. In late October, I even thought that I had been able to forget about everything and move on. But as the days of November tolled on, I knew that I had not.
On Friday last week I went in to my old High School to get some documents I needed, and I decided to stop and visit a few of the teachers that I had been close with. My first stop was Mrs. C, who I often feel is the person I am eventually supposed to be. There is only one other person on this Earth I am comfortale discussing anything with, besides her.
We chatted for a few minutes, and eventually she got to The Question.
"Are you seeing anybody?"
It was one of those occasions where you knew it was a loaded question- poised to segueway into a conversation that may be unpleasant. She probably guessed my response due to my hasty reaction.
"Oh, oh god no. Not for awhile. I'm taking a break...a long break...I'm not dating." I stumbled. "No relationships." I concluded, as if she needed clarification. My heart rate at this point had skyrocketed, and I felt like I wanted to lay down.
"What happened with you and Alex?" She asked. I sighed.
"It ended. Poorly. It was really bad." I mumbled. As I mumbled, I saw the flashes in my mind... the moment of the breakup, me crying and going to the only friend I had at my school, and the pile of everything I had connected to Alex in my haste to get rid of it.
"Its probably best not to date right now. You would only be looking for a healer, anyway. You would jump into a relationship with someone for the wrong reasons. Most people usually do. Its good that you didn't."
I smiled at her, and opted not to mention that I almost did, that I've been fighting an endless parade of desperate crushes since September. I didn't tell her that on the rare occasion that I thought I would actually be interested in someone, I did something to end that possibility quickly. I had (and have) no desire to hurt another person, not ever.
We moved on to other topics of conversation. I left the school and walked home, looking away when I walked past Alex's house, his car, and the porch that had seen years and years of memories. I kept walking, and went straight home. I don't remember what I did afterwards, nothing of any particular importance, I'm sure.
The next day I went to see a play with Jereality, who has been by my side and as supportive as she can possibly be through this whole mess (its amazing, how much she's supported me, actually. She lives almost 4 hours away from me right now, and we barely see each other anymore. But she still somehow knows me better than almost every other friend I have). We met up with my boss from the summer job I worked in an office. After about seven minutes, my boss turned to me.
"How are things with Alex?"
It was in this moment that I decided that all my relationships occuring from whenever I re-establish the will to date on would be absolutely secret.
"We broke up." I whispered, wishing the damn play would start so I had a reason to be staring straight ahead at a castless stage.
"Uh-oh, what happened?" She asked. Her voice was thick with a knowing smile. She had predicted the failure of the relationship early on, and had done little to hide her beliefs from me.
"We got into a fight. I told him not to call me anymore, and he didn't." I told her, my eyes holding an unwavering gaze towards the stage. These words were not upholding the absolute truth of the situation, but it was as simply as I could put things without giving her enough details to hold against me.
"About what?" She may have asked. I'm not sure, because at this point my mind was searching for a reason to find a different seat, or to talk to someone else, or to run anywhere else that I could go.
"Something stupid." I muttered, before opening my program and noting out loud all of the different advertisements inside. She didn't bring it up again, and I was able to enjoy the play mindlessly. My eye caught Jereality's sometime later, and the incident was only mentioned once afterwards, by me.
Some days I feel like I've been cursed, or crushed, or both. I have to fight to avoid absolute bitterness regarding the whole situation. Other days I'm fine, I feel ready to at least stop thinking about the past relationship. Most days I filter between the two, making every effort to just retain a staggared sense of normality above everything else.
I feel lucky, and blessed that most of my friends have really been there for me. They have supported me, and lightly chided my not-so-bright decisions. They have joked with me, sat with me, and offered me rides home when I decide to wander the streets alone at night. They have distracted me with movies and games and baked goods and bowling, and they have offered to kick Alex's ass on more than one occasion, even though he's done nothing wrong.
To end, I suppose I'd just like to say that I defy anyone to try and find a group of people who could be better for anyone. Through the ridiculous disaster-slash-personal hell, my friends have helped me keep a ray of sunshine in my life. Just thinking about them, and knowing that they've been here for me, pulls me through sometimes. And even when it doesn't, they are still understanding and sympathetic when I lose sight of things.

There's something wonderfully to be learned out of everything.

-Sarah Elizabeth

Ohhh Dear

I cringe to realize that is wasn't until this week, the last week of classes, that I was truly able to take advantage of any sort of grasp of time management. As a matter of fact, it wasn't until today that the understanding filtered through my head- shower the night before, sleep in an extra hour and a half, get dressed, grab homework, and leave. Of course, I'm also taking an extra forty minutes to blog here before I do so. Because I love you all. So maybe time management isn't exactly what you'd call it at all. Instead, we shall call it "extreme laziness occurring only in the morningtime or after extended periods of sleep". Or ELOMAEPOS, which if you look really hard, appears to be Greek. Don't be fooled, its nothing of the sort.
Unfortunately a side effect of ELOMAEPOS is a complete lack of coherency.

Sometimes I Worry That I've Lost The Plot

Okay so, besides the terribly whiny (and unspellchecked...seriously, how hard is it to hit a goddamn button?) post from earlier, I decided to add one more senseless entry to cap off the evening. What could I be doing instead? Writing a paper and studying for a final. But I love you more, interwebs, and as a result I'm going to fail at (a very well recorded) life.
What will this entry be about? You ask, on the edge of your seat, I'm sure. Settle in, dear friends, because you are in for an intensely boring moment. Because I'm going to write about cleaning.
Wait...where are you going? Really, you're going to leave already, and not listen to my heady tale?
Whatever.
So, I go home on the weekends now. Every weekend. I strap a bag to my back and carry my laptop case down to whatever train station strikes me fancy first. Three to four glorious days are spent at home. Upon my return Monday morning to my dorm room, however, I generally dump my shit and go to class.
Typically this gets cleaned by Tuesday night. Well guess what it is, ladies, gentlemen, and germs- Tuesday night. Except I haven't cleaned. Oh no. You know how much I haven't cleaned? The only dishes suitable to eat off of at this point is a single cup and a mug that can't be microwaved. The drawer I keep all of my books and folder and notebooks in is completely empty, and I honestly can't see either my desk or my bed, because all of the books and notebooks are opened with scribbles and post-it notes and paperclips. Its like Staples had an orgy but didn't clean up after itself. Damn capitalist pigs.
Adding to the fuckville that has become of my side of the dorm is a tangle of wires that I'm not even totally sure are mine...they may have followed me here. On top of those wires are a multitude of black bags in various sizes. One backpack (that isn't actually unpacked...I'm just living out of it for a few days until I go home again), a messenger bag with Monday's books, a shoulder bag with today's books for my second class, and a purse with the books I brought to read during dinner. On top of all of these is a empty water bottle that is not mine and I have no idea whose it is, a roll of toilet paper for reasons I cannot fathom, and a jar of Peter Pan peanut butter.
The only explanation I may offer for this debauchery?
Finals week has begun.

The most emo-est list of them all.

A list of some stuff thats been going through my head lately:

- I'm not entirely sure how I get anything done, particularly since I fixed the internet on my temporary laptop.

- If HP could return to me the laptop they've been taunting me with for over a month (because it broke down two months after I bought it and I had to send it back) that'd be great...then maybe I'd be a tad less homicidal.

- My "no dating" decision I made in October (that few of you are aware of, because I talk about dating all the time to make people believe that I'm not spending at least 3 hours every day contemplating the epic fail of my last relationship....healthy) shows no signs of being shortened...but I may expand it to January, if not the rest of my life. Its how I plan to save the population of the word from disaster and myself from ever having to be this insane ever again.

- I may take my Political Science major (that I still have to switch to) and use it to go to Law School. Because apparently, I don't hate myself enough, and this is an even faster route to get myself to hell.

- When I go home for Christmas break I'm probably throwing out most of what I've owned for the last 10 years. I don't want it anymore, I don't want to look at it or to touch it or to know that it exists anymore. Keep an eye out on Ebay for the bulk of what's salvagable.

- I got really frustrated yesterday and wanted to cut my hair, because thats what I do when i'm unexpressibly angry. But then I realized that I got my hair cut this weekend so there isn't anything to cut.

- I haven't been able to cry since September and I would not only like to know why, but whether its part of a master plan to make me wander off into the woods one night and just stay there until the local animals adopt me as their own and I finish off my life as a deer or turkey buzzard.


Sorry for making you all regret having eyeballs and cognitive thought! :)

-Sarah Elizabeth

Texting opens whole worlds of possibilities.

a bit of sillyness to last between classes:

Me: "I am a magical unicorn with the wings of a sightless gnome."

Jereality: "Thats impossible. Everyone knows that sightless gnomes are afraid of heights."

Me: " How can they be, if they don't know when they are being exposed to high places?"

Jereality: "...The space-time continuum makes their ears ring."

Me: "Ah, so they must be statues then, because of their aversion to both movement and aging."

Jereality: "You remember the lessons then. Good, good."

I Forgot How To Spell My Name By The End Of This Entry.

Something about moving out of my house where I live with three other people, and living in a room with just me and one other person whose existence is not entire dependent on my own, made me realize my aptitude for living by myself. Unfortunately, I enjoy it much more than I probably should.
I have always had a abhorrance for depending on other people. I don't know why, because its not like anyone ever went out of their way to teach me this. I was taught, growing up, that different people have different skills and needs and that working with other people makes life not only easier, but more pleasant because you're not alone. This message apparently flew past me, and I waved to it as it did, wishing it a pleasant journey into the heads of every other living soul that I knew.
My tendency lately is to blame the anxiety for a few of my weirder intricacies. I do this mostly because people seem to feel better about me if I can tell them why I do weird things. The truth of the matter is that Yes, I have an anxiety that makes me basically want nothing to do with most people because unless I know you or you pass some sort of "not a creeper" test. But I am fairly certain that my constant need to be an independent as I can, my hatred of large groups of people (group dynamic is probably one of the largest causes of idiocy known to man), and the complete enjoyment I get from only having to take care of myself without having any consequences on other people, is probably just my own weirdness.
I'm sure at this point the image I have painted for you is one of complete selfishness. Maybe it is, but it isn't that I don't want to take care of other people. Generally, I don't mind that. I just hate when other people have to take care of me, because I don't want to have to impact someone else's life with one of my million idiotic tendencies. I'd hate to think I brought someone else down with me, you know?

Please note: These word are the ramblings of a very tired, unfed, cold person... written earlier in the morning than this person usually even crawls out of bed.

Much love,
Sarah Elizabeth

Another Place To Fall

Here's an interesting story I never got around to telling people, about a guy I barely know.

This guy and I met on an anthropology trip in the beginning of October. I was the only one who went that wasn't in his class, so we didn't really talk much. I don't even really know his name, nor does he know mine. The trip was to Ellis Island, so it wasn't until we were standing in some horrendously long line for a ferry that we really spoke at all. The conversation was light but easy, and I remember laughing a few times. After the trip, we went our seperate ways. But ever since then, I see him at 10:45 every other day, sitting in a hallway waiting for a class. He listens to his ipod as I put on gloves and walk down the hall, and every time we see each other, we both smile and wave. Last week his class let in early, and I realized that he hung back by the door for an extra few seconds, turned to smile and wave to me, and then disappeared inside the classroom. It was one of those "my faith in humanity is restored" sort of moments. It makes me sad to realize that the semester is going to end next week, and I probably won't get to see him anymore.

Developments

There are a handful of issues I feel strongly about that I've always wanted to do write-ups on, discussing the issues and my argument of them. I've been tempted to write these pieces to send as editorials or to create a portfolio so when the day comes that I interview at an organization dedicated to Human Rights, I can show them the issues I've been following and what I'm passionate about.

For this reason, I am starting a blog (connected to this one) about issues that I feel strongly about. The blog will be (obviously) political in nature, so enter it at your own risk. The first entry will feature an introduction of my views and what to expect. The second entry will be a response to all of the hate mail i'm sure will ensue.

I hope you will all check it out and leave some feedback!

http://www.TheNutshellPrerogative.blogspot.com

Songs I Can't Get Out of My Head Right Now

- I Woke Up in a Car- Something Corporate
- Existentialism on Prom Night- Straylight Run
- The Resolution- Jack's Mannequin
- La La Lie- Jack's Mannequin
- Life's A Cinch- Mundy
- Landed- Ben Folds
- Merry Happy- Kate Nash
- Lonelily- Damien Rice
- Easy/Lucky/Free- Bright Eyes

P.s. I've been feeling a wee bit crazy lately, but in a "I want to go jump off rocks and climb a tree and chase a cloud and call everyone I know and sing to them" sort of way. This is a great change for me, and I'm really excited about it and I hope it lasts.

All my love,
Sarah Elizabeth

Full of Win

I am prone to complain about my 9:30 class the way many people gripe about their "eight ay-ahms". It doesn't help that the class itself drives me absolutely nutters. So I decided to share with you (because really, who could care more?) my morning schedule when it comes to getting ready for my class! Lucky youuuu!

6:30 a.m. - Cell phone alarm goes off. Its some anti-climatic porno ring. I tried to change it to "Thats What You Get" by Paramore. It didn't listen. Press one of the outside censors to quiet the alarm for an extra five minutes.

6:35 a.m.- Hit snooze again.

6:40 a.m.- Hit snooze a third time. Decide to be nice to the roommate and shove the cellphone (charger, and all) under my pillow so she won't hear it and it will go off in my ear.

6:45 a.m.- Hit snooze again. Look out the window briefly and marvel at how pretty the morningtime is before getting five more minutes of glorious sleep.

6:50 a.m.- realize that the snooze addiction is getting ridiculous, but continue to hit it anyway. This will not be the last time, either.

7:20 a.m.- After hitting snooze six more times (Each time going "Now I have an hour and forty minutes to get ready!" etc...) I jump (literally) out of bed. Stumble into the bathroom.

7:25 a.m.- Look in the bathroom mirror. Decide that my hair, since I went to bed with it wet, will be completely unmanageable. Then wash my face (managing to get soap in my eyes YET AGAIN) and brush my teeth before wandering back out into my dorm.

7:35 a.m.- Look at unmade bed, Do nothing. Realize I should get dressed, But don't. Pull out the paper due for my 9:30 class to tweak it before printing, Ha ha! What do I really do? Start up youtube and facebook and whittle away the next half hour uselessly.

8:00 a.m.- Decide to download Trillian on the temp laptop. This will take five minutes.

8:05 a.m. grudgingly do the paper for my Writing class, even though its a terrible topic and could be written by semi-retarded birds.

8:10 a.m.- Start this post. Note:I am still in my pajamas with an unmade bed, no books in order, no breakfast, my hair isn't done, and I'm pretty sure I have no socks. If the entry were to end here I'm pretty sure I'm have to title this entry "Full of Fail!".

8:15 a.m.- Decide its about time to get ready. Make the Bed- marvel at my ability to spin my comforter a full 270 degrees while leaving the "throw" blankets usually kept at the end of the bed compeltely intact (sleep OCD? Yeah, I think so too!). Get dressed- a process made difficult when I realize that my foot is in fact, completely numb and a little blue. Ever shove a completely useless apendage into jeans? Few could say that they could. I am among those few. Print the Writing paper, track down the books (which I had already piled on my desk subconsciously the night before- excellent!). Listen to youtube music (through headphones, of course) and close the window next to my bed so my roommate will stop screaming "Polar Bear!" when she sees me.

8:40 a.m.- Do a few silly-esque things. Decide to leave early for my class so I can buy something at the school's Bookstore even though every time I walk inside a little bell in my head screams "Consumerism! Consumerism! Kon-Sue-Merr-Iz-Uhm!". I will talk some other time about the price policies of the convienience stores on campus. Its a treat, sort of like living in the tourist section of NYC at all times.

8:50 a.m.- Leave for class, full of WIN!

A Poem *

One hand out the window and I can't turn back now,

the air is pressing against my fingertips with something to say.

its feeding my urge to run and scream and

fold these hills into my pockets to carry with me on the days the bulldozers are too apt

to not ask questions,

and to instead flatten this land to pave the longest blacktop,

another parking lot.

warmth on the dashboard, the hair on my arms, the bridge of my nose,

strives to dominate the flush of my cheeks,

the hand i'm holding in the passenger seat,

where her eyes are lighter than the pale, white moon whose sway holds over us, now.

lighting the world.

We live behind two spot lights and a wide, cracked road.

little bits of soft green life sprout defiantly from the center,

challenging and defiant and

fresh like lips and eyebrows and the earlobes of the one you're

desperately holding onto

When the leaves start to fall I can realize that I'm alone

in a beat-up car of memories,

tapping broken fingernails to a faded rock song

that was once my anthem,

Now it carries me farther away than the hills and rivers and eternally stretching trees

I hike through when

Kismet hides the sunset and I watch

the sun rise

from the crest of a secret hill no one else can dare to see.

When my eyes close tonight my desperation will not be forgotten,

the keys are in the ignition and the

pedal has inched past eighty.

* All work on this site is protected by a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.